


Burning confessions

by Builder



Series: Nat on Fire [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Drug Use, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, Prostitution, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: She doesn’t tell people when her missions go awry.  All the paperwork is done in her neat, tight cursive, noting that everything was taken care of.  Finished to the letter.  The extra casualties she begrudgingly reports, but any other divergences from the original plans Nat keeps firmly to herself.  Even when they nearly break her.
Series: Nat on Fire [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/796122
Kudos: 10





	Burning confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @builder051

She doesn’t tell people when her missions go awry. All the paperwork is done in her neat, tight cursive, noting that everything was taken care of. Finished to the letter. The extra casualties she begrudgingly reports, but any other divergences from the original plans Nat keeps firmly to herself. Even when they nearly break her.

She’s well on her way to disposing of the target, but Nat’s been running on fumes for too long, and a miscalculation in the amount of drug she can handle for her diminishing density leaves her vision wavy around the edges and a bit to be desired in her balance. 

A swallow of crystal clear vodka doesn’t bring on the clarity Nat craves, nor does it make her vomit up the pills. Instead she’s stuck with the dizzies and a suddenly too heavy gun in her hand. 

It takes four shots to down the target instead of one, and Nat’s sure she’s woken half the hotel by the time the job’s finished. She can’t find her shoes, and the disc she’s supposed to be looking for isn’t worth the extra time searching. 

Nat tumbles out the back door onto the balcony, somersaulting over the bar and smacking her collarbone hard. She feels the fracture, and it brings the threat of tears to the corners of her eyes. Nat bites her lip until she tastes blood, then flops down to the ground on her uninjured side. 

After dusting off the grit of the back parking lot, Nat takes off barefoot. SHIELD has a car hidden in wait for her behind a surf shop a few blocks down. She knows she’s really in no condition to drive, but Nat’s going to be in worse shape if she doesn’t. 

The GPS in the dash is programmed for SHIELD HQ, but Nat re works it for her preferred destination. Then she throws her uninjured arm over the wheel and drives, squinting past the ballooning halos of street lamps into the night.

When she finally pulls up the gravel drive in front of the farm house, Nat’s close to passing out with pain and adrenaline crash. She throws the car door open and hangs her head out to sick up a foamy mix of vodka and long -dissolved white tablets. Then, too shaky to even undo her seatbelt, Nat takes her mobile phone and dials the Bartons’ home number.

Clint comes outside to collect her, then Laura takes Nat up to bed. Even washed and dressed and tucked into clean sheets, Nat can’t get to sleep. She pulls the SHIELD paperwork from her bag and takes out a pen. _Mission completed_ , Nat carefully writes. _No issues encountered._


End file.
